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09 March 2013

Fearless


A rare opportunity for a date night with my husband affords us the opportunity to travel a bit lighter that we would on a usual family outing.  No diaper bag; no juice cups; no Ziploc bags filled with some kind of snack that I would later find wedged in or under the seat of the car.  In fact, this time, there is no car.


I slide the newly purchased black helmet over my head.  The protective foam still has a faint but lingering aroma of cigarette smoke and machine parts from the bike shop.  And without giving too much thought to it, lest I change my mind, I get on the motorbike.   My body tenses and my arms lock, perhaps a little too tightly around my love.   And we are off.

I am so used to my automobile, with its seatbelts and reclining seats and automatic windows and locks.  

And doors. 

But this experience is something altogether different for me.  This is terrifying.  And exhilarating.  I begin to relax.  As fear subsides, something else emerges.  This overwhelming reservoir of passion and joy breaks forth.  I feel alive.  And I LOVE it.

There is nothing that separates me from the world, nothing that encases me from the journey.  I am fully immersed, all my senses fully engaged, as I cling to my beloved.  I smell, taste, the salt air.  The wind tears over me.  Every stop, every acceleration, is magnified.  Every turn, as my entire body leans into the curve; close, closer to the ground.  A ride in my car never felt like this.

And as we cruise along Chapman’s Peak, one of the world’s most beautiful scenic drives, I come to a devastating conclusion:

I am missing it.

I am missing the adventure of the journey of my life.  I am missing clinging to my Beloved Jesus as He takes me to places and people and heights I have never been. Where once I willingly followed Him to great depths across waters and continents with a child-like excitement and implicit trust I find now I have conceded to linger in shallower waters of routine and contentment.  I have settled for self-reliance and self-preservation.  Rather that accepting the adventurous invitation of the One my heart loves, to risk daily in delirious joy, I have declined for something a little “safer.” And in the perceived safety of this meticulously crafted cocoon to protect myself, I sojourn these shadow lands certain of making my heavenly destination. 

And completely missing the journey. 

Fear’s inexhaustible exhaustion, masquerading as reserved concern or even wisdom, convinces me to play it safe.  Tirelessly wearing on me.  And it is heavy, its weight pressing greater as the years pass.  As the cost of following Christ grows more apparent.

There is so much risk.  So much that could happen.  So much that could go wrong.  What if He leads me somewhere risky?  Somewhere dangerous?  What if He asks for something more than I am willing to lay on the alter?  So much trepidation wrapped up in the realm of “what if…”

I gaze through my visor into the blue greens that thunder against these magnificent cliffs we drive, that hug the Atlantic in this cup of bay; and the arctic kissed sea that sprays up in gossamer swirls.  This terrifying joy journey takes me right to the heart of my crisis of belief:  I am afraid to trust Jesus.  I realize in my futile efforts to preserve my life, I live a little less.  And I conclude there is no joy in this kind of “what if” thinking. 

What if…

What if Christ had succumbed to His fears in the garden, abandoning the cross? 

But for love, for the joy set before Him, he endured.

What if I followed His example?

What if I truly committed to give up self, to lay down my life?  To take on the image of Christ?  To forsake how people view me that they may rightly view the true and living God who dwells within me?

What if I stopped stifling Holy Spirit and really gave Him full authority over my life?  To know His boldness?  To be a willing captive to His humility and power?

What if I were to really live without fear?

Without fear.

What if I were to really live?

True life.  Abundant life.   Life that, in its risk and sacrifice, begets new life and yields immeasurable beauty.  Life that bespeaks immeasurable love.

What if I gladly gave myself to this scandalous Savior, this glorious God Man who, knowing what it was to fear, chose joy?  Chose love.  Chose me.

Jesus, I commit myself anew to You.  I confess that, while I have accepted You as Savior, I have denied You Lordship over my life. I choose to turn from my unbelief.  I choose to trust You. Have Your way in me. I pray the only fear I embrace is the ravishing and reverent awe of who You are.  Holy Spirit, teach me to lift my eyes above my own fears and to rest them on kingdom joy, my joy in Christ, set before me.  Fill me with the richness of Your fear-casting love.

Nathan drives up to an outlook point and we watch the colors of sky and sea change as the sun dips lower.  The view is stunning.  Sitting on the stone ledge, I take in the beauty of this place tucked away below the equator.  Here, at the ends of the earth, I re-remember that the God of the journey is good and trustworthy.  That each step I take is a gift of a radical grace and fearless love expressed by the One who risked the steps of Calvary that we could walk together into eternity, and journey on.





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